Chromophobia
by BatDemonNinja
Summary: White, Blue, Purple, Orange, Pink,and Red. His only friends. Francis. His only love. All taken and contortioned into a sick twist of life. Slight gore. FrUK. Maybe some grammer issues


White.

All Arthur saw, the only color that was around him, was white. The walls were white, his bed was white, his sheets were white (well sometimes there were days when they had tinges of red), and his clothes were white. There were only three things that weren't white...

His own arms and feet.

The paper with the blue, purple, pink, and orange flowers drawn childishly on it.

Then of course, his lover.

His shoulder length blond hair and magnificent, ocean blue eyes. His blue button down and his black pants, even if they were crumpled. His long tan limbs that used soft tan hands to caress the Briton when his eyes were closed. This was Francis.

"Arthur, I have to go…" the Frenchman said. He always said this, every now and then, turning to the white window.

"No! You're staying here!" Arthur would always order, his green eyes brimming. But his lover never left, he would smile and sit on the bed again before they talked more...

"I wonder how our children are doing…" Arthur wondered aloud as Francis gently petted his hair. They had four children, beautiful ones at that. There were Alfred, Matthew, Claire, and Odette.

Alfred is a hyper child, he loves eating and being a hero. He has big blue eyes like his father and wild hair like the Brit himself. He always leads his siblings into trouble and causes trouble to Arthur...but he is a good kid. Francis says he is adorable when he goes to school to play with the little Japanese student. Amour, Francis would say, is cutest when young.

His favorite color is blue…

"They're okay." Francis replied.

Matthew is a calmer child, very quiet to the point Arthur sometimes doesn't notice him. He too has Francis's blue eyes, but his hair is more relaxed, unlike Alfred's. He is like the north to Alfred's south. He likes staying out of trouble, but of course he wants to be noticed more. So he keeps good grades and a good attitude. Such a cute kid.

His favorite color is purple…

"But we haven't seen them in...days? …months?" Arthur simply retorted.

Odette is slightly different from her brothers. Her eyes are blue. Why none of their children have _green_ eyes is beyond Arthur's wondering. Her hair is perfectly blond. She is very smart and serious for a little kid, anxious too. She clearly prefers Francis over him but it doesn't matter that much. She is the most beautiful dancer he's ever seen.

Her favorite color is pink…

"I see them every day. They want you to stop worrying." Francis said simply.

Claire is the oddest of the bunch. Her hair and eyes are brown, completely different from Francis's or Arthur's looks. But Francis said that his father had brown hair, so maybe recessive genes? She is a loving girl, trying to be equal in loving her parents. She can't cook on her own. That means trouble, but she loves the sea, it always brings a smile to her face.

Her favorite color is orange…

"Really? How are they?" Arthur asked quietly. Francis smiled and kissed the Brit's forehead gently.

"No need to worry. I'll see them soon. I have to go..." Francis said slowly, pulling away. Arthur caught his breath and held onto Francis's blue sleeve tightly.

"No! You're staying here!" he yelped while closing his eyes. Francis smiled and sat back on the white bed again to embrace Arthur and petted his blond hair again.

How long had he been in this white room? Hours? Days? Months? Years? It was driving Arthur crazy but he never had the courage to leave the room. Francis told him that when Arthur opened the white door that he would leave. He didn't want the frog to leave... never.

"Frog?" he asked a few hours later. (Or was it days or years?) Francis looked away from the window and looked at his lover. "What's at the other side of that door?"

Francis smiled sadly and walked to sit at his bedside. "On the other side of that door is life. You need to walk out that door."

Arthur furrowed his brows and shook his head. "But then you'll leave me, and like hell your leaving me."

Francis laughed.

"You can't stay here forever."

"Watch me."

It was slightly maddening, being in white. So it wasn't Arthur's fault if he wanted some entertainment.

"You bloody frog! You need to keep your mind off the damn window and pay attention to me!" he would yell, but the Frenchman would never fight back like he used to. He would just turn and smile before coming back to the bed and kissing the daylights out of the Briton.

"I will never keep my mind off of you. I love you." he would always say with such love, so much love it made Arthur swallow harshly.

"I love you too."

"I have to go."

"No, you're staying here!"

Colors were the only thing that would keep him to the world. Roses were red. The sky and sea were blue. The grass was green. Eggplants were purple. So on...so on...

Arthur didn't know how long he could stand this; he wanted something different to happen. He wanted to see Francis glare at him again. He wanted to see his kids, go to work. He wanted to see his friends...

So he made a drastic mistake.

Francis stood and pulled the covers up to Arthur's chin.

"I have to go."

Arthur clicked his tongue and closed his eyes.

"Then go. I'll see you later." he said. He heard only silence for a while. The Brit almost believed that Francis left before those words were whispered in his ear.

"I love you."

Arthur only mumbled and feel asleep.

It had been too long. It was really maddening this time. Arthur felt like screaming.

Francis hadn't shown up for a while.

He didn't know if it was for days or months, but without Francis around, it was made sure that the Brit was going mad. He had no one to talk to. No one to interact with. No one...

The Briton didn't know he was this needy for attention untill it was gone. The white was consuming him now. All he looked at now was the little flower picture.

This must be what hell is like...

Arthur was in a delusion now. He only stood by the white door now, wondering. If he went through that white door would Francis and his kids be on the other side? Would his life really be there? It was so enticing that he wanted to crash through that door.

But of course he wouldn't. This was a test by Francis. He just knew it.

But that white door was taunting him now...

Arthur didn't know anymore. To him, the sky and the sea were white. The grass was white. Roses were white. Eggplants were white. So on...so on...

Arthur didn't know how long it had been since he saw that white door finally open, but he didn't care. He knew on the other side of that door would be Francis, his lover, his life, his-

Antonio?

On the other side of that door was a face that he never thought he would see again. Antonio looked flustered as he went to the Briton.

"Arthur? Mi amigo, are you ready to leave?" he asked simply. Arthur titled his head. Leave? Leave…

"…where?" he rasped, his voice broken like he hadn't used it in months. Antonio sighed and went to Arthur to help him up.

"The hospital."

"What about Francis? And my kids? Where are they?" Arthur suddenly asked as he looked out of the door. There was no Francis. No Alfred. No Matthew. No Claire. No Odette. Nobody but the Spaniard that stood before him with a sad expression on his face.

"Mi amigo, they all died. Don't you remember?" Antonio asked quietly. Arthur tensed and shook his head.

"N-No. Francis told me they were okay. They're not dead..." he whispered, but all the Antonio did was shake his head and pull the Briton out the room and down the hall.

"It'd be better if you saw yourself. They told me to show you if you ended up like this, so don't..." he said as he opened a white door. Arthur widened his eyes and screamed.

There, piled on a table, was his family drenched in red…

Alfred's blue eyes were now glossy. His little body torn open and apart...

Matthew was in a little red ball, his eyes mercifully closed. His perfect hair was matted in red, and his little curved back was torn and hollowed where his spine would be...

Claire was bent in a horrific angle. Her beautiful, empty eyes stared straight at Arthur. Her arms were cut open and her hands were dripping red...

Odette wasn't even recognizable anymore. Just a hideous ball of red flesh. A little red bow dangling on the table's side.

Then finally Francis. He looked in better shape than the children. His blue sweater was drenched and his arms covered the children in a protective way. His hair was matted down with red.

Arthur was so sickened he bent forward and breathed heavily, so hard he couldn't hear the door close or the footsteps leaving his side. How could colors do this? They wouldn't betray him this way! But it showed clear right in his face. He wished these colors didn't exist. Red, Blue, Yellow, Green, Purple, Orange, Pink, Black, and most of all, _White_. Damn these colors. Damn them to hell!

Arthur was so in tune with his hatred he didn't see the Spaniard to the side with a German officer, writing down information.

"It seems patient J092-1834 has shown signs of madness from two months in captivity..." informed the tall Spaniard, jaded green eyes sliding to the cowering Briton. The German nodded before he pulled out his pistol and moved his arm forward. On his arm, he wore a band of white, black, and red.

"Poor bastard." he said simply and let the shot ring out.

Arthur felt nothing as he hit the greenish floor, staring at the brownish ceiling. He only smiled slightly and whispered.

"I have to go…I'll be there...soon..."


End file.
